


The Story of Us

by They_Called_Me_Punderful



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-10-23 20:41:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 15,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17690498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/They_Called_Me_Punderful/pseuds/They_Called_Me_Punderful
Summary: Hey guys!! This is a klance and adashi and stuff. Read on but be cautious!





	1. Info

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys!! This is a klance and adashi and stuff. Read on but be cautious!

Allura: Age 16 1/2; self-harm, anxiety, depression, past suicide attempt, hospitalized by cutting so deep she was taken in an ambulance to the ER; heterosexual. (Female)

Lance: Age 15; self-harm, anxiety, bulimia, past anorexia, depression, suicidal tendencies, ADHD, hospitalized by suicide attempt (did not black out, but told his mother because he was afraid of what he might do to himself); bisexual. (Male)

Keith: Age 16 (turns 17 in a week from hospitalization); self harm, anxiety, severe depression, many suicide attempts, nicotine addiction, opioid addiction, drinks frequently, abused, hospitalized by calling police on foster parents because he thought his foster mother was going to kill him; homosexual. (Male)

Hunk: Age 15; severe anxiety, social anxiety, depression, attempted suicide, homicidal thoughts, suicidal thoughts, paranoia, survivors guilt, hospitalized by attempted suicide; questioning sexuality. (Male)

Pidge: Age 14; anxiety, depression, self-harm; hospitalized because she was afraid she was a danger to herself and others; asexual. (Gender fluid)

Shiro: Age 17; anxiety, depression, suicidal tendencies, suicidal thoughts, homicidal thoughts, self harm, abused, drug use, alcohol use, hospitalized due to suicide attempt; homosexual. (Male)


	2. One - Lance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Bulimia: suicide attempt

I'm sitting on my bathroom floor, sobbing. Tears roll down my face like waterfalls of pain and sadness. I stare at my hands through tear-blurred vision, and I can't tell if they're shaking or if it's the tears. Why am I like this?

The toilet still has my vomit in it, brought on almost completely by my own self hatred. And the back end of a toothbrush. I've forced the food out of me, so many times. Every meal, snack, drink. Even if I just have one chip. It all has to go.

Sure, not eating got me to be skinny, but how am I supposed to maintain that? Puking. So, at least I'm eating, right? I could be worse.

I rip off my shirt, tears dripping down my cheeks at a slower rate than before. I stand and look in the mirror. My ribs stick out in a hideous way, and my face is sunken. My eyes have bags under them that are big enough to carry groceries. I let out a dry, joyless laugh. What is wrong with me? 

I suppose it all started with her. With Nyma. I was so in love with her, with her beauty. She had long, flowing blonde hair and a gorgeous smile. Even her name made me putty. Nyma.

When she's approached me and told me that she'd been infatuated with me for so long, it seemed too good to be true. (It was). I had my first kiss with her, under the bright lights of the bowling alley. I had my first time with her, inside my brothers car. Little did I know, I meant nothing.

It was a few days after we'd hooked up in Ivan's car. She'd said to me "I love you, Lance, but you're just so...bad for my reputation,"

I'd asked her what she'd meant, and she'd told me flat out "You're fat! You don't look like the rest of the guys! I'd thought you would be super hot, but I guess not. I can't love you if you look like this."

I'd nodded. And that week, I didn't eat anything. When my mother made me eat during a family dinner that Nyma had attended, I felt so fat and ugly. That was the first time a puked.

Eventually, I started eating again, but I kept on making myself purge every meal I ate. So, instead of gaining a bit of weight and getting into the healthy zone, I stayed a skinny, tall person. And I was content.

What's a bit of suffering if it made Nyma happy? Well, eventually she decided that I wasn't enough. So she left me for Rolo, and I was left with emotional, mental, and physical damage.

So that's why I am how I am.

I brace myself against the counter around the sink, looking at my horrible face in the mirror. Do it. My mind whispers to me. End it, they won't care. If you were really worth it Nyma wouldn't have left you.

I'm going to do it, I decide. I open the mirror about the sink and find the nail polish remover, reading the label and the warnings. Do not ingest, it says. Well, sorry buddy, but that's exactly what I plan on doing.

My cup that I use for rinsing my mouth after puking and brushing my teeth is filled with the nail polish remover, and I take a little lick of it before drinking it all very quickly. My stomach rumbles in protest and I race to the toilet again to puke, tears flicking my eyes as everything in my stomach flies out. It didn't work.

I get up and walk out of my room, downstairs to where my family is sitting and eating dinner together. I sit at the table, feeling guilty. My siblings all finish their dinner, but I'm still picking at it sadly.

"My mouth tastes like nail polish remover," I say all to casually for what's to come.

Mama looks up, "Did you have nail polish remover in your mouth?" She asks.

I nod, "Sí, mama."

"Why?"

It breaks me. Now's when I have to admit it. "To kill myself," I whimper. I can't meet her eyes, but I force myself to look at her face. She looks so sad, so...disappointed.

"Do you want to go to the hospital?" Mama asks kindly. I'm startled by how calm her voice is, because her eyes portray something pure and raw.

I shrug, because I'm really not sure.

Mama takes a rattling breath and says, "Are you afraid you might do it again?"

This one takes me a second, because why did I tell her? Was it because of that? Or was I just done?

I nod, because I am afraid. I want to go to the hospital, because then I'll know that there really is something wrong with me. Then I'll know why I keep doing this to myself.

Mama gets up and takes both our bowls out to the kitchen, gesturing towards me. "Please put your shoes on, Lance," she says, barely above a whisper.

I sniffle and nod again, going towards the stairs. Ivan is coming down them, and sees me.

"Lance?" He says, concern lacing his voice.

I look at him, wanting to tell him everything and nothing. "I'm going to the hospital. Mama-"

I shake my head and try again, only now Ivan looks even more concerned. "Can you please get me my shoes? I don't think I can walk up the stairs," I whisper, my voice cracking.

Ivan nods and raced up the stairs, footsteps thumping. I hear him open my door and then his footsteps come back towards me, and he stops in front of me. I haven't moved.

"Lance," he says, putting an arm around my shoulder and sitting me on the stairs, "why are you going to the hospital?"

I burst into tears, unable to speak at all. "C-an y-y-you-?"

Ivan looks down at my untied shoes "Do you want me to tie them?" He asks.

I nod and continue to sob into my hands, my shoulders shaking. "P-l-plea-se,"

Ivan tied them just how he knows I like them. After all, he's the one who taught me how to make a bow. He hugs me and kisses the top of my head.

"I love you, Lance," he says into my hair, "come back soon,"

I wrap my arms around him like he's a life raft, keeping me from floating off into a sea of nothingness.

"I love you too," I say.

Mama comes around the corner and sees us, "I've already told the others that we're going to the hospital because you're hurt," she says.

I unlatch myself from Ivan and say another goodbye as Mama walks me out the door. The drive to the ER is uneventful, filled only with the sounds of my sniffles and occasional whimpers.

When we get to the ER, Mama signs me in and about a half an hour later I'm sitting naked, covered only by a papery, cold gown, under thin sheets that aren't doing their job very well. Mama sits in a chair looking sleepy, after all, it's past ten o'clock.

"Mama," I say, "am I going to school tomorrow?"

Mama looks up sadly, "Lance, you aren't going to be going home,"

"What?" I exhale sharply. Nobody told me this!

"You will go home eventually, but the nurses said you'll be moved to a hospital that specializes in mental health. It's residential, but your siblings and I can visit you,"

I nod. Honestly, I've cried so much that I couldn't let a tear out if I wanted to. Dehydration, I guess.

"Can the nurse bring in water?" I ask in a small voice.

Mama looks up, "She already did. You weren't supposed to drink it yet when it arrived but it's for you. They wanted to make sure you weren't going to throw up again. Also, when you have to go to the bathroom you'll have to pee in a cup. They need to - ah - test it."

"Okay," I say, taking the cup she hands me. It's not a normal cup, it has a handle and a straw. Probably for people with actual problems. My head pounds and I can still sort of taste the nail polish remover. Maybe the water will help with the headache.

Being without underwear makes me feel like a little baby, and it's odd. It makes me want to use the bathroom and cry a lot and just sleep. But every time I close my eyes I see Mama and Ivan with tears in their eyes. 

The nurse walks back in, she was using the bathroom, and waved and smiles at me. The blood tests are done, as well as when they attached a bunch of stuff to my chest and sides to monitor my heart rate. The therapist had already come in and interviewed me about why I did what I did.

I look at the nurse, I don't remember her name. I know she told us when she came in. "I have to pee," I say.

She nods. "Here," she says, handing me a cup, "pee into this, only to the blue line. Then you can head back out and give it to me."

As I stand up, the nurse wraps another papery hospital gown around me, covering up my exposed butt. I smile gratefully at her. She leads me down the hallway a couple doors, to the bathroom. I'm not allowed to go to the bathroom alone, so she steps in with me and turns her back, facing the corner.

I hold the cup in a shaky hand, almost dropping it into the toilet. I sigh, because I can't do this by myself like I want to. "C-can you hold the cup for me?" I ask quietly. My face flushes and I stare at the front of my gown, wishing I had asked for papery pants and a this shirt.

Now I have to expose my thighs and my...junk...to this random lady. She's nice, but that doesn't mean I want her looking at me while I pee.

"Sure," she says, walking over and holding the cup steady. She puts a hand up near her eyes, shielding me from her view.

I pee into the cup, until she pulls it away. Then I go in the actual toilet. When I'm done, I flush the toilet and wash my hands. Luckily, I don't have to go through he awkwardness of handing her a steamy, pee filled cup and having her thank me, because she already has the cup. She walks me to my room and slips out again to drop off my sample before sitting down again.

My bed is uncomfortably high, made for sitting, but I don't want to be a bother. The nurse, who is apparently named Sydney (I heard one of the doctors call out to her), hooks me back up to the beeping machine. I smile at her softly, and she smiles back.

"Would you like me to turn off the lights?" Sydney asks.

I nod, feeling a little better once I see my sleeping mother in the plastic chair. I'm more trouble than I'm worth. The room goes dark, save for all the equipment that's glowing.

I relax backwards into my hospital bed, and Sydney lowers it. I try and curl up minimally, as not to block any of my wires from getting information to the machines. Don't want to make them think I'm flatlining.

My eyes flutter shut, and I fall into a restless sleep. 

I wake to the lights being turned on. "Oh, sorry," says a new nurse. This one is ridiculously hot. I'm glad I didn't have him holding my cup last night, because I probably would have had some...dreams...last night.

"Hi," I say, "you're not Sydney?"

He laughs. "No, I'm not," he agrees. "My name's Andrew,"

"Lance,"

"Well, Lance, you're going to be riding in an ambulance today. Cool, huh? I'm here to prep you. You'll be admitted to Mingo Hospital, it's about thirty minutes away. I'm also going to ride in the back with you. Your mother will be following in her car."

I nod, trying to process that I'm going to be in an ambulance. "Can I pick the music?"

Andrew laughs, "sure. Anything you want to be brought will be taken by your mom,"

I smile, or at least try to. It probably looks like a grimace to be honest. Andrew has me sit up and he unhooks me from all the equipment and stuff. Then, the ambulance drivers come.

I'm hoisted into the stretcher and latched into the ambulance, talking to Andrew the whole time. "Can we listen to Fergalicious?" I ask for some I reason.

Andrew laughs again, pulling out his phone and turning it on. The song starts and I mouth along to the words, paying no attention to Andrew at all. Thirty minutes goes by fast when you're listening to classics.

When we arrive, I'm rolled into the building through the ambulance entrance, looking all around at the buildings and the windows, wondering which room is mine.

"You won't be going to the eating disorders wing," says a lady who's showing us around, "that's not what you've been admitted for. However, you will be having a nurse who will accompany you to the bathroom to ensure you don't make yourself vomit. And you will have a nurse who will make sure you're getting enough food to eat each day. If your problems persist, and I mean the eating disorders, then you may be moved to the eating disorder wing."

I nod. Hopefully I won't have to go to the bathroom very often. "If I'm doing fine can I go to the bathroom alone?" I ask.

The lady smiles. "No," she says, "it's mandatory until you're discharged. However, if you've been without an episode or any urges, and you're making good progress in your treatment, we may allow you to bring another patient, who shares the same sex and gender identity, to stand inside the bathroom and have the nurse right outside the door."

"Oh," I think that would be worse, because at least the nurse wouldn't say anything. A patient on the other hand...

The lady keeps on talking, more to my mother than to me, and we get taken into an office. There they take my weight (I close my eyes and try not to cry when they see how fat I am) and ask my mother about me.

Mostly things like when is his birthday? and does he have any allergies to medicine or foods? So it's all pretty bland.

I take a moment to let the events all catch up to me. It's all a blur, feeling hopelessness while bathed in white-yellow lights, to eating dinner in the natural sunset, to crying into Ivan's shoulder while bathed in yellow-gold lights filtering in from the kitchen. From there, to the industrial, bright white lights of the emergency room, to the tiny light in the ambulance, to now. Whatever I should call the lights in this room.

Lamp light?

Whatever.

I'm still trying to figure how I went from point A to point B to point B 1/2 to point C. (Home, ER, ambulance, here) when the lady says for me to say goodbye to my mother and leads me to an elevator. I tap my fingers against my thighs through my dresses, nervous and excited in equal amounts.

My mind races with questions. Who will I be rooming with? Will here be a tv? Are there bathrooms in the rooms? Can I use them? Is there going to be a nurse to make sure I don't use them? What if I need to pee in the middle of the night? Will my roommate be mad at me if he can't use the bathroom because of me? What happens if I get punched? Do I have to go to a different hospital? What are the people here like? Will they hate me if I'm bi? Are they allowed to hate me? Will we have to do couples therapy if we fight? Is there group therapy? When do I get to see my mom again?

That last question plays over and over again, as I think about what I said to her. She'd hugged me and kissed my head and said

"I love you, Lance,"

And then I said it back.

"Te amo, Mama,"

But there's this one voice in my head, a cruel voice devoid of all kindness that says to me:

If you really love her, why did you try to leave?

And the truth is, I don't know why I tried. I mean I know I wanted to die, but I don't know why I wanted to die, specifically.

I don't know.

And that terrifies me.


	3. Two - Shiro

I'm getting a new roommate today, or at least, that's what Marissa told me. She's the kindest nurse here and she really...understands what we're going through. She let it spill during group therapy one day when somebody snapped at her and told her shoulder could never understand because she'd never been a mental patient before. Turns out, she had.

She never told us the reason, only that she was chronically depressed after a teenage pregnancy, but nobody's ever given her shit after that, not even the new people.

Speaking of new people, I wonder who my new roommate is. Apparently he'll be coming within the hour, so I'm excited to meet him. Hopefully he won't be too stuck up and act like he's above everyone else. I can't stand people like that.

Of course, I won't just write him off immediately after he does one little thing. He's just been admitted to a mental hospital! No, he deserves a few chances to get used to the whole sharing your problems thing. He deserves a chance to adjust and to get to know the people around him. I've been in this place for three and a half weeks, four this Saturday, and that means I need to help this kid out. Obviously, he's younger than me. I'm seventeen, so most people are. I just hope he's not like, twelve. That's impossible, since he'd be in the child wing if that were true. But like, thirteen. That's would suck to see someone so young in so much pain.

I relax backwards into my pillows. Only two of them, since one of them is basically just sleeping on the mattress. My parents brought in a blanket, which has no loose strings, nothing hanging off, and absolutely no decorations. But it's warm. It's also attached to my bed as to keep my from hanging myself with it. Not that I would do it, but my new roommate might. So we've got to be careful.

The door opens and Marissa steps in, propping the door open with her foot.

"Takashi," she says, her voice soft, "your roommate is getting dressed right now. He came from the hospital. And he's...pretty bad right now. I'm not authorized to tell you what's up with him, but he isn't allowed to use the bathroom alone. Make sure to...respect his wishes, okay? And come get me when he needs to go to the bathroom, if he tells you. And, I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to lock up your bathroom too. We just...don't want him getting hurt. You get that, right? If he wants to take a shower, come get me too. We'll use the Quiet Room bathroom for that so I can sit on the toilet while he showers. It sucks I know, but just...please be courteous. I know you can, but give him a lot of time. Also," she fumbles around her waist and for a second, "here. It's a buzzer. It will immediately notify me and the front desk of this unit when you press it. Press is it you or your roommate is having trouble. Okay? Or if the bathroom needs to be opened,"

I nod, trying to commit all of those things to memory. I wonder what's wrong with my roommate, if there's so many precautions. I'm expecting a somebody with probably anger management problems, so we're trying to keep our bathroom intact, or something. I sit up on my bed and look at my blanket, waiting for my new roommate to come in.

After a couple minutes, there's a soft knock at the door, so soft I almost don't hear it. I hear Marissa's comforting voice, the one she uses to get reluctant patients to do things, and then another series of three knocks, only a little bit louder.

"Come in!" I say, raising my voice so they can hear me on the other side of the door.

A frail voice comes from behind the doors, and I can't even pick out if it's a high or low voice, or if it's generally loud or soft. "I-I don-I don't think I c-an,"

I sigh and walk over to the door, already a bit annoyed and ready to tell Marissa so once my roommate opens the door and goes to his bed.

As soon as I see him, though, I don't want to.

He's got brown skin, that much is obvious, but it's pale, too pale to be healthy, and even has a little bit of a yellowish tint to it. His eyes are sunken into his face and his lips are dry and chapped, his eyes red and puffy from what seems to be a lot of crying. I move aside to allow the poor skeletal boy into the room.

He steps carefully, not speaking but looking up at me cautiously, almost nervous. He sits down on his bed, which is bland with white sheets folded up at the edge of the bed. I didn't notice before, but he's got like...six extra blankets in his bundle. What's even happening with him?

Marissa says something to him and he mumbles a response, she must be satisfied because she leaves the room. I want to shout after her No! Please don't leave! I don't know how to talk to this kid! But I don't. I don't want to be rude.

"Hi," I say, lifting a hand and waving. I don't want to touch him without his permission. I don't know what he's gone through. "I'm Takashi Shirogane. You can call me Shiro,"

The boy looks up, almost startled, like he expected me to be rude. "Lance," is all he says. But it's enough.

"Lance," I say, "is that your only outfit?"

Lance nods and sits on his bed, fiddling with the edge of one of his blankets. He won't meet my eyes, which is not too uncommon in this place, especially with people who first come in.

"Well you can borrow some of my stuff until you get some more outfits. I have lots of sweatshirts and sweatpants and socks. They'll probably be really comfy since I'm bigger than you. Oh! And for pajamas I have t-shirts and stuff. Of course, you don't have to use them I you don't want to. Just putting it out there."

Lance has wide eyes as he looks down at himself, at his old baggy long sleeved shirt that has definitely seen better days, some pants that are pretty obviously from the hospital itself (they're from the actual hospital part and not the inpatient mental wing) and made of that cold, dry material that is just generally uncomfortable on your legs.

He looks back up at me and his eyes fill with tears. "Can I? Please? I don't-" he sniffles and starts again. "I don't want to be stuck in these for the next two days,"

I smile kindly at him and find my biggest, comfiest, softest hoodie I have and my smallest pair of sweatpants. It occurs to me that he might not be wearing any underwear, if he just came from the hospital, but I honestly don't care. Those pants barely fit anyway.

Lance takes them and smiles gratefully, before looking back down. "I don't have any, you know," he says.

I tilt my head to the side and give him what I hope looks like a supportive smile. "Its okay. I'm not going to give you mine, but you'll be okay for a couple days. I mean, if you really think you need them, I could give you a pair...but I think the only ones I have that will fit you are a pair of lace panties. Don't ask me why I have them, it's a long story. I can tell you later. I honestly think you'll feel better off with none,"

Lance nods, a small smile making its way onto his face at the lace panties comment. "Could you maybe...turn away?"

"I'm going to hold up a sheet so I can't see you, but I'll also hide you from view if anyone opens the door. Sound good?"

Lance nods gratefully. I get the feeling he's a lot more talkative than this, but he's broken. Just like the rest of us.

I pick up one of his sheets and he goes into a corner near the bathroom. I hear rustling as he removes his weird, stupid hospital pants and puts on my sweatpants, then I hear his breath shudder as he takes off his shirt and puts mine on.

He steps out from behind the curtain looking significantly less afraid of me and his surroundings. The enormous black hoodie that goes down to his knees and hangs off of his shoulders makes him looks small, but I can tell that exactly how he wants it. He wants to be able to hide and pretend that he's somewhere else. And I'm so glad that I can give that to him, even if it's not the healthiest coping skill.

"You like it?" I half-laugh, half-ask.

Lance nods gratefully and a smile splits his face. "I love it,"

"Do you want help making your bed?" I offer.

Lance shrugs sure and walks over to his mound of blankets, picking them up but almost dropping them, as if they're too heavy. He looks at me, and I quickly look away so I don't embarrass him. Out of the corner of my eye, I see his shoulders slump in relief and I stand up on his bed, getting the thin sheet laid out over his crusty-ass mattress.

Okay, so it's not actually crusty. But it's like a piece of tarp stuffed with minimal stuffing. It sucks. So I give him the sheet to lie on and tuck it under the mattress so it doesn't come out. Then, we both lay a sheet out on top of it. After that, we pile on the blankets. Apparently, there wasn't six. There's nine of them.

Nine.

Fucking.

Blankets.

Okay, so I really want to know what exactly happened to Lance to make him need this many blankets, have the bathroom locked, be so scared of me, be a skeleton, and have a buzzer thingy on hand in our room. Like, what? But I don't want to make him uncomfortable so I keep my mouth shut. He deserves to have some momentary peace before he ends up in his first chaotic meal with us. It's coming up in about an hour and a half.

That hour and a half is usually spent in group time, but apparently there was an emergency admission from their Post Hospitalization Program because a kid had a hallucination and somebody got hurt. Allegedly. So we don't have any group today while they deal with patching this kid up and re-admitting him into inpatient.

Lance sits on his newly made bed and stretches out, his feet stick out from the bottoms of his sweatpants - yeah, he can have them - as he crosses his legs.

"Do you want some socks? I think I have fuzzy ones from the Barnes & Noble home section line thing. They're super comfy. Plus, you sort of seem like a cold person," I say.

Lance looks up, something in his eyes that tells me I'm about to find something out. "Well, I'm not always just straight up cold. But I don't have any fat in me so I can't warm myself up like that. That's why I have fifteen billion blankets. And why I kept on shivering."

I smile at him and toss him the socks, they're black with white toes and heels and fur. I definitely see what Marissa was talking about with the whole 'be careful with him,' thing, but I also think she was exaggerating a little bit. He seems..not exactly comfortable. He seems like the kind of person who came here of his own free will. Not somebody who was fought into the ambulance. Like somebody who wasn't planning on going here, but definitely wasn't opposed to the idea because he knew he needed help. Those are the best kinds of people.

For the next hour and a half, Lance takes a nap. He seems super tired, so I promise to wake him up when Marissa comes to get us. I don't think he knows that we're about to go eat, or that he has to stay upstairs while everyone else goes down. He's up for the first twenty four hours (no going outside, no going to the computer lab, art, cafeteria) but by dinner tomorrow, he'll be allowed to come with me and I can tell him how it works.

Marissa opens the door after what seems like no time at all (I probably fell asleep) and I tap Lance on the shoulder, and he sits up quickly, still with bags under his eyes. Marissa ushers me out the door so I'm not late to dinner (it's Taco Tuesday and the hospital tacos are weirdly good). 

As the elevator takes me and a group of people down to the cafeteria, I wonder how it's going for Lance. I wonder why exactly he's in here, along with the same questions as before. Then, suddenly it all clicks.

The bathroom, the skinnyness, the yellowed skin, the fragility.

Lance has an eating disorder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo...Shiro figures it out! I wasn't really sure how to end this, but Shiro isn't going to be confronting poor Lance about this. Also, next chapter has everyone's favorite emo hippo! Hope you enjoyed, and feel free to point out any errors, grammatical or anything else, in my story. Bye!!


	4. Three - Keith

Getting out of bed is always a hassle. I've watched a billion videos on how to do it, and they all say the same thing: have something to wake up for. And they don't mean something like your alarm, either. They mean that you have to be excited for something in your day. Something that isn't going back to sleep.   
So, I'm literally never going to wake up easily.

My back hurts from last night, my most recent beating, and one look at my arms and legs tells me I'm going to be wearing long sleeves today. They're covered in bruises and cuts. Not to mention, I'll have to take a shower to get the dried blood off my chest, back, and arms. I shiver at the thought of hot water getting into those cuts, trying to think of some alternative. I don't find one.

I stretch, feeling a sharp pain in my everything, and quickly hobble to the bathroom. One benefit of living with these abusive assholes who call themselves my foster parents: en suite bathroom. So at least they don't have to see what I've done to myself.

Not that I necessarily care about what they see, since I hate them. They'll just beat me harder if they find out. I turn on the shower.

After peeling off my underwear, I step gingerly into the hot water, wincing as it hits my bruised skin. I practice standing straight up and hiding my grimace as I do so. Honestly, what isn't a mask?

Then it's time for my arms, I decide to suck it up and shove them both directly into the stream of boiling hot water. It probably hurts more than it has to, but I don't care anymore. I turn the water off.

Once I get dressed, I walk out of the bathroom and begin towards the stairwell. A door opens, I vaguely register that, but then I run straight into a body. A body that belongs to Shelby (abusive foster mom, part time bartender, full time bitch). My face hits the side of her boobs directly. I look up to see her seething.

"You..." she says through clenched teeth, "you little pervert! Is this what those kids are teaching you at school? I should pull you out and beat you senseless. You dare touch me?" Shelby continues on with spouting curses and insults, but my body has already partially numbed in preparation for what's to come.

At some point during his wife's rant, Carl came out and now he's standing in front of me, listening to the absolute bullshit that Shelby is spitting from her vile mouth. He looks at me with a new look in his eyes, a look that strikes fear into my very being. Wordlessly, he speedwalks across the floor and picks me up by the collar.

"Don't you ever," He seethes, shaking me and holding me over the banister, "touch. Her. Again."

And with that, Carl flings me over the railing and onto the couches below. I land on the top, sliding down to the actual seat of the couch. Right next to the phone. I dial up 911, but I don't say anything or tell Shelby and Carl. Until they come down the stairs, that is.

They kick me until I can barely breathe, and, in my last minutes of pure, animal terror, I hit the call button. The phone takes its time ringing, giving Shelby enough time to kick me in the crotch with her pointy heels with all her might. I curl in on myself, and begin crying.

Now I'm not the type of person who cries easily. Only when I'm really scared, or really hurt. I don't know if I cry when I'm happy. I haven't been happy in a long time. This time...

This time it's been pent up for so long. So much sadness and anger and just general bad feelings. I sob into my hands, and I'm still crying heavily when someone picks up the phone.

"911, what's your emergency?" I hear coming from the phone.

"I-AHH-I'm hurt, I think," I say into the receiver. He second I speak, Shelby and Carl freeze. Carl grabs a bottle from the counter and slams it onto my head. It shatters, and knocks me out.

Whatever happens after I wake up is a blur of being spoken to, mumbling, and being rushed to the hospital. I'm shaking like crazy, and the nurse has difficulty hooking me up to all the stuff.

My ears ring, my vision blurring around the edges and, when I turn, my head pulsates pain and my vision is hidden by black spots. The nurses and doctors are talking to each other, quietly. Why they even bother with that, I don't know. It's not like I even understand enough. Every sound is garbled, like it's passing though a bubble to get to me. This includes the beeping.

I curl up into myself. Hopefully they send me away somewhere. I don't care where, I just don't want to be here.

A nurse appears at my side, pushing a straw to my lips and speaking softly. I manage to make out something like "Oo you own hair oo a?"

I shift a little bit. "Wh-wha-t?"

"Do you know where you are?" She repeats, patient smile on her face.

I try and think of hospitals in my area, but I can't. "The...hos-pit-al?"

She looks at me. "Mingo, to be exact. You'll be admitted to our inpatient program shortly, once you've regained consciousness and we've gotten you washed up,"

I shiver and nod. My everything hurts from the fall off the second story. "Can I sleep now?"

The nurse nods. "Of course. I'll wake you up when it's time for us to transfer you over. Right now, we're trying to find a room. There's probably going to be two boys rooming with you, okay?"

I'm sure she elaborates, but I'm already sleeping. 

After some time, I'm woken up by a different nurse, this one with brown and caramel streaked hair that's wavy and goes down just past her shoulders. "I'm Marissa," she says.

"Keith," I mumble.

Marissa gently urges me to sit up, her hand hovering near my back and sort of...guiding me. But not touching me. That's good, because I don't think I can handle somebody touching me right now.

I get up, and after gaining be balance, Marissa leads me to an elevator and we go up. The floor we land on is pretty nice, sort of a cross between a hospital and a boarding school. I'm lead to one of the rooms in a hallway, that's kind of far from the main desk. I shuffle along behind her in my grippy hospital socks and my hospital gown. I have on hospital pants under it. They make a rustling sound as my legs rub together when I walk.

Marissa stops at the door at the very end of the hall, looking at my hands before knocking softly. The door opens and I see a frail, tall boy with brown hair and sad eyes.

He's wearing an enormous sweatshirt that looks like it was made to fit the Hulk, and a pair of sweatpants stick out from beneath it. His eyes are sunken and bloodshot, and his hand - the one on the door - is only skin and bone. His legs shake as he stands there. Marissa ushers me into the room, the boy stepping aside to let me in.

Marissa says, "The bathroom door is to remained locked at all times. Takashi has a buzzer in case anyone needs to use it, and it will notify me and the front desk. Lance, Takashi, this is Keith. Keith, the one with the white tuft is Takashi, or I guess he goes by Shiro, and this tall guy is Lance. I expect you all to get along very well,"

With that, she sends all three of us supportive smiles and walks out, leaving the door just a little bit open. You can't even see the hallway. I look at the two boys, Lance has gone to sit down, and Shiro is really buff. Like, Lance has to be wearing one of his sweatshirts.

After a few moments of silence, Shiro speaks up "So, Keith. I see you only have one blanket,"

I look at the bare bed, tucked into the corner. There's some sheets and a thin blanket. "...Yeah?"

Lance looks at me, "I have nine of them," he says, flustered.

Shiro chuckles. "Lance is basically a human ice cube," he says.

Lance nods softly and lies on his bed, curling his knees into his sweatshirt. Already he seems like the type of person to go with the flow. And the type of person who has a shit ton of baggage.

I begin making my bed, looking at the bathroom door. "Why can't we open it?" I wonder aloud.

Lance inhales sharply, and out of the corner of my eye I see him tense. "Well, you see, what happened is....I-"

He stops, shaking violently and beginning to cry. Shiro mumbles something and there's a buzzing sound, before footsteps sound outside the room and Marissa enters, taking in the sight.

I wonder how this must look: me, halfway through making my bed but staring at Lance open-mouthed; Shiro, frantic and jittery, but trying to keep his cool; and Lance, having an anxiety attack on his bed, curled in on himself.

"Lance," Marissa says softly, kneeling in front of his bed, "it's okay, shh. What happened?"

I speak up: "It's my fault. I asked why we couldn't use the bathroom and then he tried to answer and now he's...a mess,"

Lance looks up, and we can all see his eyes. "Por que?" He whispers.

I'm not sure what that means, but it doesn't sound very good.

So it's been less than forty-eight hours and I already gave a kid a meltdown.

What's next?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter here. I kind of hit a roadblock in writing from Keith's point of view. I know how I want him to sound and act, but he's really broken and shy right now in the story, so I don't want to shove him into a role that he isn't ready for. Comment on anything you liked (or hated) and feel free to point out anything wrong!! :)


	5. Four - Shiro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Shiro again. I'm going to introduce someone (they're canon don't worry) and finish up Lance's anxiety attack from Shiro's POV and then next chapter we'll have someone new!!

Watching Lance is horrible, but I can't look away. I think it's because I feel like looking away would mean taking away the moral support I'm sending his way. Eventually, when Marissa sits next to him in the bed and hides him from view, I look down at my hands. I feel part of my bed go down and look up.

"Hey," says Keith, "I'm really sorry about this. I was just wondering why we couldn't use the bathroom. I didn't mean-" he trails off, looking a Lance (who I guess is in his line of sight because of where he's sitting).

I nod. I want to put my arm around his shoulders, but I can see that he has bruises and cuts in his neck and his wrists, and bandages on his back through the hospital gown.

"I think I figured out why, but I'm not going to tell you. It's not mine to tell," I respond, tapping my fingers on my thigh. 

"G-g-uy-s," Lance says from his bed. Marissa has one of his hands in hers and is giving him a supportive, cautious smile.

"Yes, Lance?" I say.

"I-can-tell-l-l y-ou wh-wh-w-hy," he manages to get out.

Keith looks up at him, "Lance," he says, "you don't have to. I'm not mad or anything I was just wondering. I didn't mean to make you cry!" He whimpers. I'm

Lance shakes his head, "I h-have an e-eat-ing dis-ord-er," He says.

Keith and I listen, trying to commit it to memory.

Marissa cuts in. "Can I tell them?" Lance nods. "Lance suffers from bulimia and anorexia, along with other things. We want to keep him safe and that means having the bathroom door closed and locked at all times to avoid any urges or episodes. So, Keith, the answer to your question would be: to keep Lance safe,"

Keith, from right next to me, bursts into tears out of guilt. "I'm so sorry, Lance. I didn't know. I just-" he breaks off into sobs. "I just wanted-" more sobs shake his body.

Lance stretches out his legs and shakily walks over to to Keith, stopping in front of him. I stand up and walk over to watch near Marissa. She looks at me and then back to the two boys who are now both sitting on my bed.

Lance mumbles "¿Puedo abrazarte?"

Keith looks at him in question before Lance says something else and Keith nods. Lance pulls him into a tender hug, and Keith tenses before relaxing into the taller boy's arms. Keith closes his eyes and runs his hand down Lance's arm softly.

After a few moments of the two of them hugging, Marissa speaks up. "I really hate to do this to you guys, but it's lunch time. Can you guys make it out into the lounge? But not you, Shiro. You're actually going to the cafeteria,"

Keith and Lance walk out, both on shaky feet and I follow, leaving Marissa to walk out of the doorway last. Lance and Keith keep walking to the lounge, Lance is leading because Keith hasn't even been out of our room yet. I sigh and walk into the elevator.

When I arrive in the cafeteria, I get my food. Lunch today is a burger, optional cheese, and a side of fruit. I sit down with Pidge at our usual table. One look at Pidge's wrist shows me that he's going by he/him today. Or at least, right now. I'm not really sure how being genderfluid works.

Right next to our table, is the door. Outside of it is a water fountain and a hand sanitizer dispenser. I rest my cheek in my hand before Pidge is snapping in my face.

"-ro. Shiro. Are you okay?" He asks.

I look at him, he has concern in his eyes. "I'm fine. Just a little worried about my new roommates,"

Pidge looks confused. "Roommates? Plural? I thought it was just Lance?"

I look at him, "There's two now. Remember? I complained about having to move rooms,"

"Oh yeah, I forgot about that," he says.

I chuckle and take a bite of my burger. For hospital food, it's pretty good. "Yeah. This new guy is named Keith. Seems like a nice dude. Accidentally set Lance off though, I had to use our buzzer. I think that he and Lance get along pretty well. They hugged. Oh, and I was right. Lance does have and eating disorder,"

Pidge looks at me, his eyebrows raised, "Is that your superpower or something? Catching on to other people's problems?"

I shrug. He's speaking from experience (I figured out his hairband on the wrist technique of showing whether he was a dude, a dudette, or neither). I figured out what was wrong with Lance, I figured out what was wrong with a bunch of my other roommates. I guess it is just something about me. Apparently, the only person I can't figure it is myself.

"So how's Adam?" Pidge asks. Adam is my boyfriend since freshman year. I love him, but I tried to leave him and that makes me feel guilty beyond reason.

"He's good," I say, probably getting a loving look in my eyes, "he called me, said he's going to come visit me. Saturday, my birthday? I'm really excited. I haven't seen him for weeks!"

I'm allowed to have Adam over on my birthday, because of some special strings I pulled. Or, Marissa pulled. It involves every single patient and nurse signing a slip saying they're okay with Adam coming to visit - so far, we only need Lance and Keith to sign. Then, we can't be too affectionate in the lounge, only in my room. Even then, we can't go beyond some minor kissing. And the door stays open.

My birthday is tomorrow. I'm turning seventeen and I'm sooo excited. Again, boyfriend. He's nineteen, and he's also excited to come see me. He's going to call me and the two of us are going to discuss the whole thing in detail, then go over in with Marissa over the phone on the front desk. I've never been so happy. I hope nothing happens to make my day go bad.

"Lance and Keith still have to sign though, right? Pidge asks.

I nod, "Yeah, I hope they do. I have to ask them tonight. I feel bad, because Keith just got here today, and Lance got here yesterday."

Pidge shrugs, "Lance seems like a cool guy, from what you've told me and what I've seen in group. And Keith seems like the kind of guy who cares more about other people than himself. I'm sure that if you explain it he's going to agree," he says.

I nod, finishing my burger and taking a sip of water before eating some fruit. "Do you think Adam will break up with me? I mean, he's amazing and I love him, but...I'm sort of a burden? And I don't want to hold him back,"

Pidge sighs. "Adam calls you every day. Also, he in college and he's driving six hours. By himself. Just to visit you for an hour. But yeah, he's obviously doing that just to hurt you because you're a burden. He loves you, Shiro. He really, truly does,"

I sigh and stab a piece of watermelon over and over. Once it's been turned to mush, I feel much better. "You're right. I love him, and I have nothing to worry about. Adam loves me too,"

The nurses then say lunch is over, and we go back upstairs. I head to my room to look at my favorite thing in the world: a photobook of me and Adam over the years. When I get there, Keith is sitting at his desk, or rather on it, jiggling his foot. Lance is sprawled out on his bed, asleep.

"Hey," I say. Lance apparently is not asleep, because he sits up and responds to me.

"Hey, Shiro,"

I smile. No time like the present. "So, I have this boyfriend. His name is Adam. And tomorrow I'm turning seventeen. The nurses said that if everyone signs a slip saying he can come over, he can visit me on my birthday. Now, I know you guys just got here and might not want anyone knowing where you are, and I understand that. If you decide not to sign, Adam will stay home and I can see him when I discharge, but I really want to see him. So...just think about it and tell Marissa if you are okay with him coming,"

Lance sits up, "You're gay?"

I nod, hoping he's okay with it. "I'm bi," he says.

Keith looks up, "I'm gay too," and looks back down.

"And I'm going to sign. Adam sounds cool," Lance says.

Keith sighs. "Me too, I guess. But...please don't kiss in front of me? It's kind of...triggering,"

I nod and walk out of the room to go find Marissa. After excitedly telling her what I found out, she walks into the room and has them sign. They do.

Seventeen, and I'm so excited.

I can't wait to see Adam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like is said, this will have Adashi. I was originally going to have a texting sequence after everybody discharged (kind of Shiro just saying he has a crush) but I thought that having him in a relationship from the start would add more variety to the couples I'm planning on having. We have Klance happening after they leave and Adashi from the start. As usual, feel free to comment anything you liked or didn't like about this chapter! Next chapter we get some Lance meeting Pidge and we have a new patient! Bye lovelies! <3


	6. Five - Allura

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow this story is fun to right. This chapter is happening while Shiro's last chapter is happening. This is like Lance and Keith's chapters in the way that it's how Allura ends up in the hospital and her meeting her roommate. Also, question: do y'all want any Adashi phone calls? Adam will be in Shiro's birthday chapter, but do you guys want to read about them outside of that? It'd probably have some crying and just a lot of supportive Adam. If you guys don't care I'll probably put it in but if anybody is just...completely against it make sure to let me know. Onward!

My fault. It seems like that's all my brain can say. I'm sitting on my light blue and white duvet and just...thinking. My uncle will be getting home in about forty-five minutes, so if I'm going to do anything without him seeing I'll have to do it now.

Uncle Corgan is by no means a strict man. And he doesn't get mad when I cut or burn or scratch. He just gets a bit frustrated. I know he doesn't let it show because he loves me, but sometimes he'll call up my dead father's old phone and just...talk and cry to him. And sometimes I can hear him.

I lie back, sinking into the pillows, just as I sink into my emotions. My breath is uneven and frantic, but my mind is moving like molasses. For some reason, I can't seem to talk myself out of this.

Do it  
Why  
Because you deserve it  
If it weren't for you  
Your parents would still be alive

Ah yes. This painful cycle. The cycle of "they would want me to be happy" to "you deserve to hurt for them" and back again.

I fling my legs over my bed and walk to the bathroom. On top of the toilet is a framed picture or me with my parents. I'm about three, sitting on my dad's shoulders with a flower crown in my hair.

I sniffle, tears beginning to overflow from my eyes. "I'm sorry," I whisper brokenly, tracing the picture with my fingertips. Then, I take the picture and gently set it facedown.

I turn to the mirror, suddenly filled with rage at myself. I turned my family into a broken mess. I did that. Before I know what I'm doing entirely, I slam my fist into the mirror, shards breaking off. I pick one up and go to work on my wrist.

I start with light cuts, like I normally do, but soon I realize that I'm not going deep. I focus on the widest cut and press, hissing as pain erupts from my arm. I press more, then harshly he slowly pull the shard down my arm towards my elbow. I hear the door open, and I jump. I slam the shard down harder, deeper into my arm.

"Allura?" Coran's voice sounds from downstairs.

I open my mouth to respond, but my vision begins to get black spots at the edges. I slam my fist on the floor as I fall over. And the bathroom door flies open just as I black out. 

When I wake up, I'm in a bed. Not a hospital stretcher, but not a bed I recognize. A tall girl is just leaving the room. I sit up, taking in my surroundings.

Across from me, there's another bed with a desk and to my right there's a window. To my left, a desk. The door the tall girl left out of is near her bed, and there's a door to what is probably the bathroom in on my wall. The wall my desk is against is painted light blue.

I'd like to go back to sleep, but there doesn't seem anything stopping me from getting up and wandering around. No straps or anything. So that's what I'm doing.

I kick off my covers and get up, walking to the door. I open it, finding a bathroom. I cross the room and open the other door and find a hallway.

I look up at a lady who sits at a desk.

"Where am I?" I ask.

The lady looks up, "Mingo Hospital,"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really short chapter, and not that good. Sorry guys. Next chapter has some Q U A L I T Y gay fluff on Shiro's 17th birthday in the hospital! Allura will have a longer chapter in the future, but I was just sooo excited to write Adashi! Sorry & comment anything wrong with this chapter! Bye! (Also I made a Coran look)
> 
> ;{ )
> 
> Bye my berries! <3


	7. Six - Shiro (BIRTHDAY CHAPTER)

Today is the day. I'm turning seventeen. But to be honest, I couldn't care less. Today's the day I finally get to see Adam. And I've never felt happier.

I go throughout my day as usual, buzzing when necessary and sitting through a therapy session in a daze. In what seems like both years and seconds, it's time.

After dinner, I sprint to the elevator and wait for it to take me up before I sprint out, stopping at the front desk, where Marissa is sitting.

"Takashi," she chuckles, "what are you doing?"

I smile hugely, "Adam! Wait, but not like that. I'm seeing him today. You know, because it's my birthday,"

Marissa shakes her head and says "Well, at least sit down. Can you go check on Keith? He's taking a nap,"

I nod happily and skip down the hallway to my room, and I think I might even hear the elevator open to let the other kids in (I left them behind). I'm our room, Keith is sitting up groggily and trying to get out of bed with the help of a very weak Lance. I quickly help them and walk out the door with them.

That's when it happens.

It's like in slow motion, Adam turning around. The two boys next to me fade to a blur and there's only him. Before I fully know what I'm doing, I'm rushing towards him and him towards me and I crash into his arms, he stumbles back a little bit but squeezes me just as tight.

"Takashi," he breathes in my ear.

Without fully realizing it, I've begun to cry. They're tears of relief, from finally knowing that he's here. Full of happiness, because hey, boyfriend. But mostly, I'm crying out of guilt. Guilt from trying to take myself away from someone this amazing, from ever taunting him with my personality.

From ever making him cry.

He cried over the phone the very first time we called from the hospital. He kept on asking why I did it, but I didn't know. I still don't.

Adam pulls away from the hug and inspects my face, holding my chin in his hand before he moves his hand and laces his fingers into mine. I bury my head in his shoulder despite the fact that he's shorter than me, and I hook my fingers into his shirt, afraid he might disappear if I let go.

I hear the words "Get a room," and a soft chuckle that could only come from Keith before receding pairs of footsteps.

I wipe my eyes and take Adam's hand and walk him to my room, propping the door open. I sit on my bed and he does the same, scooting me back so I can wrap my legs around his waist from behind. I rest my forehead on his back and wrap my arms around his chest.

"I'm sorry," I whisper.

"What for? You've done nothing wrong," Adam replies, taking one of my hands and kissing the knuckle softly.

"Suicide is wrong," I mumble, shivering a bit from the feeling of Adam pressing his lips to my hand.

"But you didn't kill yourself. You wanted to, but something deep inside you told you not to take the whole bottle. Something told you to give someone a chance to find you," Adam says as he switches hands and begins to kiss the other one.

"But I shouldn't have tried to do that. I should have thought of you! I should have-I should..." I burst into tears, wishing this had gone better. Poor Adam drives out for hours only to get his shirt soaked in my tears and to be sitting on a hospital bed with his unstable boyfriend.

Adam turns in my lap, now sitting directly on my legs. "Baby," he whispers, "you are everything to me. I love you more than anything in the world, regardless of your problems. Was it a good thing you did? No, but that's okay. It's okay not to be alright, it's okay. I'm not going to leave you just because you made a bad decision. You don't mean the world to me, Takashi. You are my world,"

With that, he presses his lips softly against mine, eyes fluttering shut. I kiss back, tears still dripping down my face.

"I love you," I mumble into his shoulder, after he's pulled away, "you know that? I don't think I'd be able to do this without you,"

Adam holds me tighter, pressing a kiss to the back of my head, "And I don't think I could ask for someone more perfect than you,"

"I'm flawed, though. I'm not perfect," I sigh.

"Takashi, you are. Just because you have problems doesn't mean you aren't the best person I've ever met. It doesn't mean that every fiber of my being is telling me to be with you. Sophomore year, for me at least, was when I found true happiness. And I'm going to do my best to give you the same thing you've given me. The support, the shoulder to cry one, all of it. I love you,"

I try and shift closer to him, both of us shifting to allow me to sit on Adam's lap instead of him in mine. Now that my crotch is basically on his, I shift back a little so neither of us end up in an...awkward situation.

I lift my head up and press my forehead against his, staring into his eyes. Well, his glasses anyway. His weird, weird glasses. But behind them there are the most beautiful orbs of color I've ever seen. I kiss him, it's slow and sweet and full of love.

"You guys play in here?" Marissa asks front he doorway. I nod and Adam responds with a yes so she walks away.

Capture his lips in mine again, still keeping our tongues out of it. Though our mouths are open, it's still just a little kiss. A kiss that we've been waiting weeks to share.

For once in my life, nothing is going wrong. Adam is here, and that's all the matters. Because I have a plan. One for when I get out of the hospital, because my future is one that involves Adam. 

I kiss him again.

Because he's the best part of my life. He says something again.

"You are my world,"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. This sort of sucked? But it's got the promised fluff and a little bit of angst. So...angst induced fluff, which is the best kind of fluff. Bye my dears! =)


	8. Seven - Lance

Therapy. I know it's necessary and all, but I don't like groups. Or therapy in general. So this 'group therapy' is a nightmare. I usually don't share, but Marissa approached me and told me that if I didn't share then I could be moved to a residential home after three months of not getting better.

So I'm sharing. Or considering it, anyway. Right now Shiro is telling the group about his support system.

"I'm a foster child," he explains, "but my foster parents are pretty cool. They don't exactly understand what I'm going through, but they try. Hannah, my foster sister, likes me. And Adam...he's something else. You all know that he visited yesterday, and we had a heart-to-heart. I actually thought he might break up with me because of all my baggage! But he didn't. And I think that talking to the people around you is really important for you if you're going to make progress. Even if it's not a lot, just telling Adam about some of my insecurities about what happened to me helped a lot. They don't have to say anything back, because just getting it off your chest is something that can help tons!" Shiro finishes with a soft smile in my direction.

The group leader, Nurse Diana, looks at me. "Lance, right? You haven't shared much. How about we get to know you a little bit. If you're comfortable with it, could you explain a little bit about why you're here?"

I feel my face heat up, and I glance across the circle at Shiro. Next to him is Pidge, who seems pretty cool. Then there's a couple of kids I don't know, a pretty girl with white hair and a cool accent, then Keith then me.

I take a deep breath, knowing everyone has their eyes on me. "I—" my stupid stupid voice cracks. "Um, I'm here because this is where the ambulance drove me! Heh, I guess that's how most of us got here, though right?"

Diana sighs, "Lance, have you ever had a panic attack?"

I nod and lower my eyes to my hands, which lie in my lap.

"Could you describe what happened to cause your first one?"

I feel like I'm completely too hollow. Like my skinny body isn't going to muster enough courage - or breath - to let me tell this story.

"I guess it happened when I was like...I don't know. About two years ago? Whatever. I'd had a sort of bad day at school but I didn't want to let it make my whole day bad. I was supposed to babysit my nieces, and I really tried to do a good job. After everyone left, I was supposed to play some games, have them do their homework, feed them, and get them to bed before eight thirty. Well it all went fairly smoothly. Except for when every time I didn't let them do something they wanted, like have ice cream or skip homework, they said they were going to tell my mom and brother.

"That really scared me, but I didn't let them do anything they weren't supposed to. When they went to bed, I texted Mama and Leo about it. They got home about an hour later, and my nieces came bolting down the stairs and they were screaming about how bad I was. They said I didn't give them food and that I hit them sometimes if they didn't do what I told them to, and they made up a bunch of other stuff. Leo and Mama were so mad, and they yelled at me. Told me I wasn't going to be babysitting ever again. And I let them. But that night I ended up curled in the corner of my room and had a panic attack. I don't think I even realized it really," I end my story with an anxious glance upwards, seeing looks of concern on most faces. The white haired girl was looking off into space, but I guess she was admitted very recently. So it makes sense.

Diana nods emotionlessly. "Okay, now could you give us a little insight on what brought you here?"

I glare at her. "I have an eating disorder, and I tried to kill myself—" I shake and I take a breath, "You know? I puked after every meal, if I even ate. And I honestly do not feel like talking about anything right now. So can you just harass somebody else in this stupid circle?"

Diana looks taken aback, and I rush out of the room, choking back tears. I can't believe I just spoke to someone like that. Marissa calls out to me from the desk as I go by, but I don't stop until I'm in my room, curled up on top of Keith's bed and sitting in the corner. Why Keith? Well, his bed is the only one not visible to the door. I hope he doesn't care.

I hear the door open and mumble out a halfhearted "go away," when I hear it.

"Why are you on my bed?" It's Keith's voice, laced with concern and maybe slight confusion.

I look up, knowing how bad I probably look right now. Puffy eyes, runny nose, just generally being ugly. "Sorry," I say hoarsely.

Keith sits down and reaches out to touch my arm softly. "Don't be sorry. You didn't do anything wrong,"

I burst into tears again, whimpering. Keith hesitantly pulls me to his chest. I sob into his chest, no doubt getting his shirt covered in my messiness. He's warm, and I can feel his muscle through his shirt. He has the type of body that I've always wanted, but I'm too fat to have. I wonder if he can feel my flab.

"What flab?" I hear him say. Apparently I said it out loud.

"My flab. I'm so fat. I look like Jabba from Star Wars. Not like you,"

Keith pulls away for a second. "Lance, you're skinny. You don't have any fat on your body,"

I shake my head, resisting the urge to cover my face. "But I do. That's why I shouldn't eat. That's why I need to throw up,"

Keith's hand shoots down to the hem of my sweatshirt, a question in his eyes. I nod, and he slips a hand under, going around to my spine. I shiver as his fingers brush over my stomach and ribs. Then, his cold hand is gone.

"You don't have any fat, just skin and bone. Hey," he lifts my chin up, and I look at him through watery eyes. "If you want, at lunch today I can sit with you. We can see if they have salad, sound good? Just eat some salad. Then you've eaten, but it's not bread or cookies. Is that okay? Will you do that?"

I nod. Actually, a salad - and maybe meat - isn't too bad. I take the hand that's holding my chin and hold it with both of my hands. "Thanks," I mumble.

Keith smiles softly, "Anytime,"

Shiro walks in and goes to Keith's bed, "Lunchtime, guys," and walks out.

Keith and I stand up and follow him out, over to the elevator. We all ride down in silence, then the elevator stops. Dings.

Time for lunch, I guess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big oof. Got some fluffy friendly klance (bOnDiNg MoMeNt). Comment my mistakes and what you thought! Bye bye my queens!


	9. Eight - Keith

Lunchtime. I'm filled with a sense of dread and anxiety, for many reasons. One being Lance and his...situation. The other being that I don't really know what to do or how to act or where to sit. I know Shiro has a friend we'll sit with, but what if there isn't enough room? It's the unknowns that make me ever so anxious, and that's why I'm resisting the urge to grab onto Lance's hand. I think he needs some comfort too.

We step out of the elevator and walk to the cafeteria, and I can feel Lance getting more and more antsy the closer we get. I reach my hand out and nudge his pinkie. He looks at me, his fear written clearly on his face. I wrap my pinkie around his and let go just as we enter.

"What's for lunch?" Lance asks, quiet and shy.

Shiro turns. "Looks like macaroni and cheese with what I think is mashed potatoes. By the way, salad bar is over there," he points to a salad bar that looks like the only thing that doesn't contain some form of corn is the lettuce. Lance sighs and I can feel him arguing in his head whether he should succumb to eating macaroni or cheese or just some vegetables.

Lance stands between me and Shiro, still getting a tray and letting himself get served. He doesn't even go towards the salad. He doesn't get a drink, and follows Shiro to the table with Pidge. I follow after, grabbing a pear as I go past.

Lance is staring at his food, Diana standing over him and watching his movements like a hawk. "We can take it from here," I hear Pidge and Shiro saying.

Diana shakes her head. "Unlike this Marissa, I follow the rules. I am not going to be leaving. Not until he eats his entire plate,"

It suddenly occurs to me how much food is on Lance's plate, and how it looks to him. He looks close to tears as Diana stands over him, jabbing a finger at the food. "Eat,"

Lance shakily takes a noodle out with his fork, putting it in his mouth and chewing like it pains him. He sighs, taking more bites. I eat too, nodding towards my food and urging Pidge and Shiro to do the same. We all eat, normally.

At some point, Lance stops. He's eaten less than a quarter of his food, and Diana is not happy.

"You need to eat, or I may have to report you to the hospital and have you transferred to the eating disorder wing. Would you like that? In there, they watch you go to the bathroom, and they bathe you themselves. How does that sound?"

Lance looks like the human embodiment of Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh: sad. "I-I can't," he whispers guiltily.

Diana tries to sound supportive "Yes you can," but ends up sounding bossy and bitchy. Because she's a bitch.

"No, he really can't," Pidge pipes in.

"Young lady, you will not speak to me that way," Diana snap at Pidge, who is currently a dude.

"Okay, first, I'm a guy right now. Second, Lance can't eat more because of a psychological component as well as the fact that his stomach shrank to accommodate the lack of food being put into his body. I think he's not filling up his stomach, but eating as much as he feels like. Upping it by one noodle a day is tough, and you're trying to force him to—"

"NO! Lance, you need to eat this right now," I'm sure Diana isn't meaning to make everyone look at Lance when she says it, but hey. She's a cunt regardless.

Lance shakes his head frantically. Diana keeps pressuring him and pressuring him. Suddenly: "NO!" Lance throws his food into the ground, the room goes silent. He looks up and says softly, "No,"

Marissa is here quickly, ushering the four of us upstairs and switching between scolding us and checking to make sure Lance is okay. I feel bad for how much stress we must be causing her.

When we all get sat down in our lounge, Marissa paces in front of our chairs, set in a line. She pinches the bridge of her nose and takes deep breaths. Then, she faces us.

"First thing first: Lance, are you okay?" He nods. "Okay. Now let me know - all of you - if something I say triggers you. The four of you-I've never seen anything like that. Yeah, y'all broke the rules big-time. But I think that, especially for Lance, having the three others as an in-hospital support group would be amazing. Listen, because Lance and Pidge has an 'episode' is Diana's eyes, you two will be moved to the Quiet Room for the night. Lance, I'll be sitting in there watching over you and making sure you don't go to the bathroom. Pidge, I understand Diana said some potentially triggering things that have to do with gender, so feel free to talk about that,"

"Marissa," Shiro says, "Keith and Lance have grown really close over their stay. Even though it's only been three days, it seems like longer. I understand that Diana has some questionable sights on gays?"

Lance tenses next to me, and I lock pinkies with him. He squeezes my finger like a snake around it's prey. I'm sure that I'm looking pale and constipated at the same time.

Marissa looks at the two of us. "Yes, this is true. However, Diana is a nurse. And as much as I wish there was a reason for her actions, I can't blame it on her beliefs,"

A tear makes its way down Lance's cheek. He sniffles and takes his hand from mine to wipe it off, curling into himself a bit. "I don't want to go to the Quiet Room," he whispers.

"I know, sweets. But you have to, I'm sorry. If you need it, you are allowed to sit next to me instead of lying on the bed. Or punch the wall, there's a lot of holes in there," Marissa aims the last remark at Shiro, who shrugs and chuckles.

"What can I say? I'm an unstable mess with muscles," he laughs.

I roll my eyes. "Punch through our room wall so we can talk to our neighbors," I say.

Marissa shakes her head. "When I was in here, someone did that. But they had it above their bed and hid it with their pillow. And they shared meds with the person next door to them. Adderall, some pain meds, other stuff,"

Pain meds sound good. Haven't been going through withdrawals or anything yet, but it's definitely coming soon. Vaping and my moms meds - though Shelby can die in a fucking hole - got me very much messed up.

Later, during more group therapy with Diana, Lance stays in his room and cries. I try and comfort him, but Diana is already pissed and Marissa makes me go.

This hospital has a lot more drama than advertised.

It's not too bad though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter bites the dust! (What) I spent a while trying to figure if I should write this from Keith's POV or make another Allura chapter. I definitely did her dirty with only 687 words in her chapter. Anywho, bye!


	10. Nine - Pidge/Keith

Being genderfluid is really something. Not bad, but not necessarily good either, I guess. Sometimes it's clear as mud, while other times I can understand it in perfect clarity. Regardless of that, however, I can tell when someone is just blatantly using the wrong gender pronouns on purpose.

Meaning Diana, you bitch.

Of course, I can't exactly say anything because Diana is, for some reason, a nurse here. Why she thinks that anything she does helps at all is beyond me. And I'm pretty smart for a fourteen year old.

So I'm lying in bed, thinking back to Shiro. Or more specifically, when I first met him.

We were admitted on the same day, by some twist of fate we also ended up in the same therapy group. I still remember our first meeting too.

"I'm Shiro," says the boy. He's nervous and looks like he's about to jump off something high. Which is a mood, but probably not very good.

Marissa smiles. "It says here your name is Takashi. Would you prefer Shiro?"

He nods, "I guess you can call me Takashi if you want,"

Later that day, Shiro is on the phone, sobbing. "A-ad-Adam. I'm-please-I'm so sorry! I know...yeah...no I don't think you can...I know babe...sorry...I just wish I could have talked to you before...I...it's okay...shh, don't blame yourself...I love you too..." (Props to you if you wanna try and figure out what Adam is saying on the other end!)

"Who's that?" I ask when he's hung up and say not he lounge.

"Adam," Shiro smiles squishily, "he's my boyfriend,"

I tease, and we just chat for a little bit.

I smile a little bit, hearing the door open. "Pidge, honey," Marissa says from the doorway, "dinnertime,"

I lazily slip my legs over my bed and slink off, standing up rigid before walking tiredly to my door and walking behind Lance, who's tall gangly body has a posture that shows both nervousness and possibly excitement.

Lance seems like a guy who likes to eat, and he likes to be happy and around friends. But I think someone he held close caused him to go into self hatred. And I think that now he's conflicted as to whether or not exactly he likes food.

Right now, Diana is standing over his shoulder, doing exactly what she did at lunch, and Lance appears to be holding back tears. He looks at his food - a cheeseburger, cut into pieces - sadly. Like he can't wait for dinner to end. I don't blame him.

Keith is next to him, as usual, and Shiro is tapping his fingers on the table, anxiously glancing at Diana.

"Hey!" It's Lance, speaking to Diana. "Why'd you do that? Don't you know how much sugar is in that? I'm barely able to eat this because of the bread, and now you're putting ketchup on it! Without my permission!"

Diana scoffs, "You don't have a choice. You need to eat, and I will go to whatever means necessary to get you to your proper weight!"

Lance gasps painfully, a single tear overflowing from his left eye, "B-bu-bu-but then I'll be fa—"

"You will not! If you continue to resist eating, despite my best efforts, I will report you and get you sent to the eating disorder wing!" Diana snaps, directing the attention of the entire cafeteria to Lance.

Without warning, Lance is up, his chair falling to the ground. Then, he goes sprinting from the room. Keith stands up too, giving Diana a look like she's dirt, and jogs after the tall boy.

[Keith]

I run after Lance, scared for what he might do to himself. He's gone up the elevator, and I follow, using the stairs. I run to our room, finding him curled up, once again on my bed. His sleeves are rolled up, and I can see tons of scars, deep and some that are just white lines against pale brown skin. And he's scratching at his arm, coming close to bleeding.

"Lance," I breathe, "What are you doing?"

His head jerks up, and there's so much pain in his eyes. I feel my own becoming teary. "Lance," I say even softer.

"K-K-eith," He whimpers, meeting my eyes. I rush over to my bed, where he's sitting, and sit next to him. "Can I...hol-d yo-you?"

I nod, putting my head on Lance's chest and my arms around him. He pulls down his sleeves, and wraps his arms around me. After a couple seconds, he starts rubbing my back softly. I feel him breaking down, sobbing into my hair.

"Please don't leave me," Lance whispers.

I pull back and brush my fingers across his cheek. "I won't, I promise,"

And I'll be damned if I break that promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> K this sucked. And it was sooo short. (Much like Keith) and yeah. Y'all did get some nice Klance fluff. Bye my lil Cucumbers! :3


	11. ten - Hunk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to anyone who has ever lost a friend, a loved one, or even just someone they know to suicide, as well as those who survived an attempt. Y'all are strong and beautiful, and even when it feels like the worst, you can make it. You just might need a little help, and that's fine.
> 
> Trigger warning!! This contains an explicit suicide scene. Honestly, that's about the only thing I'll really put a warning about at the beginning of a chapter because it's just SO IMPORTANT. The other things are too, but I think this is something really big and close to home. I will put a warning right when the scene starts and right when it ends so you can skip it if you want.

This chapter is dedicated to anyone who has ever lost a friend, a loved one, or even just someone they know to suicide, as well as those who survived an attempt. Y'all are strong and beautiful, and even when it feels like the worst, you can make it. You just might need a little help, and that's fine.

Trigger warning!! This contains an explicit suicide scene. Honestly, that's about the only thing I'll really put a warning about at the beginning of a chapter because it's just SO IMPORTANT. The other things are too, but I think this is something really big and close to home. I will put a warning right when the scene starts and right when it ends so you can skip it if you want.

My uncle died of cancer. 10:30, they said, he put up a valiant fight. That may be, but I don't care. I don't care how much he fought, because he lost in the end. And now I can't ever see him again. So that is in my mind: 10:30.

I want something to happen, something big. Good or bad, I'm not really sure. I haven't spoken since the funeral, just cried and cut. I feel guilty, not just because of Uncle Harry dying. But because now his kids are orphans. Molly and Leah, nowhere to go.

What happened to Aunt Gina? Well, it's my fault.

October, a little before midnight, we were driving, me and Gina, and I was unhappy. Unhappy because the stupid meal we went out to get made me sick, so we had to go home.

"Gigi," I whined, "I don't want to go!"

She soothed me but to no avail. I kept on complaining, and she looked back. Going the opposite way, a man was driving with his kids. Our cars slammed into one another, sending us both into a lake below. Gina was killed almost immediately, bleeding from a head wound. I ended up getting a broken leg, and the other man and his children also died.

So really, it was all my fault. 

The odd thing is, both on them died at the same time: one on 10/30 and one at 10:30. It makes me want to do something at a 1030 too. But what?

I pace around my room, hands jittering. I close my eyes, only to see the image of Gina with the steering wheel halfway through her head. They fly open, and I lock my door. I don't want my family to find me.

Triggering content starts now!!

I pull out a camera, propping it up and putting on video. "Mom," I say, "Dad, Amara, Felix. I'm sorry, Okay? I killed your mom and I wasn't smart enough to help your dad. I love you guys. Don't blame yourself,"

With that, I turn it off and dress in something old - sweatpants and an old t-shirt - and grab my tie. I tie it to my fan, standing on my desk chair to fasten it. Then, I make sure the bottom is in a loop and high above the ground. I let out a final sob, and unlock the door. It's not like my parents are home anyway.

I step off the chair, my neck placed firmly in the loop above the ground. I feel my face growing hot, and my vision is going black. My breaths come rattly, unable to get through easily due to my closing windpipe. Just before I lose my consciousness, I hear a shout.

"HUNK?" 

End trigger warning (sorry loves) 

I wake up in a sterile room, my family (nieces, siblings, parents,) all sitting around my bed. I open my mouth, but my mother holds up a hand .

"Save your breath, sweetie. That took a lot of your voice. Apparently, they'll be supplying you with a tablet. And...you're being admitted to another hospital. One called Mingo. They have a really good system there, and they say they'll help you get better. The doctors are going to knock you out again, and you'll be transported to the hospital tomorrow night. For now, they will teach you to use the tablet and they're going to interview you on why you did what you did,"

I nod, and my family files out, two nurses coming back in. One of them is smallish, with pretty hair and a kind face. The other is tall, with his blond hair pushed up attractively.

"I'm Marissa," the girl says.

"I'm Adam," says the boy, "I'm a nurse in training but I do know how to work a tablet!" He smiles at me sadly and pulls one out. It's black and sleek, with a yellow H on the back.

He sits in the chair near my bed, "This button here turns it on, and this one is the volume button. If you look, there's even one for yelling and one for whispering! Cool, huh?" I nod. Adam hands the tablet to me.

"Now, once it's turned on, it'll open to this screen. Tap on 'talk' okay? Good, then you can type in whatever you want to say with this keyboard. Yep. Jeez, you're smart," Adam smiles at me.

I type shakily. 'Thank...you' the tablet says. I smile back at him, feeling tiredness take over me. Then, I'm sleeping as I hear Adam's footsteps out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have some Hunk!! Yay! Sorry that this came out later than the rest of my chapters, I was distracted with a big project for school. Comment my mistakes, you know the drill. Bye bye my precious pandas!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! It's been a while, but I'm not dead. I already have a lot of chapters written on Wattpad, but I'm updating here slower so you guys don't have to wait for as long!

It's nighttime, I don't know how late or how early, but the stars are out. I've pulled the blinds all the way up and I'm looking at the sky. The window sill is big enough to hold me. It's right above my bed, so I'm sitting.

My knees are pulled up to my chest, not protectively, but just comfortably. My arms hang around my knees, and I'm just watching the stars. We're sort of close to the city, so it's difficult, but you can see them anyway.

I've always loved the stars, space. I've always wanted to go there. I loved learning about astronomy, just because it gave me such perspective.

We're all so small, just little ants in a universe of huge monster trucks. There's an infinite amount of planets, of stars, of the universe. I think it's beautiful, that it's all just so interesting. I love it. It's never going to seem boring to me.

"Looking at the stars?" I jump at the sound of Lance's voice. He smiles shyly from his bed. "The light woke me up,"

The window reaches from the corner of my bed to the corner of his. He sits on his end, feet on his bed still, back to the window. "I wish I wasn't here," I hear Lance whisper, "I just...I don't know. I know I need to be here, but I don't get why they couldn't just send me home and get me a therapist and let me be,"

"Lance," I say. He turns to me. "A therapist can't be there every minute of every day. Look, even if it's obnoxious to have Diana breathing down your neck every time you eat, the other nurses are actually pretty good. You're here - we're all here - because we need someone to be there with us every day. We don't know when something will happen, and we can't deal with our shitty emotions with the stress of school and other shit,"

Lance nods. "Keith, if you don't mind me asking, why-what did you-wh-what happened to get you in here?"

I freeze, feeling my breath squeeze through my lungs. I knew this was coming at some point. I sort of brushed past the topic of abuse in group, instead talking about things like self-harm. I feel a little bit of relief that it was Lance of all people who asked me.

"Lance-" I breathe, "I...this is difficult. My parents, they died. When I was a baby. It sucked I know, but it's fine now. Well, I bounced around from foster home to foster home, never really getting comfortable before being whisked away to the next place. At one point I got moved into a house with these two people named Shelby and Carl. They...abused me. And-and-they..uh..th-ey-th-t-t-"

Lance scoots forward until his legs are hanging off the ledge, his toes grazing the ground. "You don't have to finish that sentence. It's okay. I mean, it's not, but you don't have to talk about it if you can't. If you don't want to,"

I take a breath, "Shelby would...r-she'd make me do things. Like...sexual things? And it was really scary. But she'd also beat me and so would Carl. They..." another breath, "they used to drug me and try and leave me to die somewhere, but I kept coming back. I think the worst part of it is that I had all my firsts stolen from me. My first kiss, my first...time...all of it. All the things that should be with someone I loved, they took from me." I whimper off on the last part.

"You-" Lance seems at loss for words. "That doesn't count. You didn't have your first kiss, because you didn't kiss her back. You didn't kiss her. She kissed you. And your 'first time' wasn't your first time. Because you didn't have sex. It's not sex if both parties don't consent. There's not consensual sex and nonconsensual sex. There's sex, and there's rape. There isn't even a fine line. It's black and white. If at any point someone decides they want to stop but the other person keeps going, that's rape. So you may feel like you've had those stolen, and you're right. You've had things stolen from you by them. But those are not what it is. They stole happiness, innocence, a sense of security, the rushing feeling and the mystery that comes from all your firsts. But you can get those back. Some day you'll meet a perfect guy who loves you for you, flaws and all. You'll meet a guy who waits and takes it all slowly so you have time to recover from what they did. You'll meet someone who'll see you as the world, and you'll think the same. Even though it doesn't seem like that now, it'll happen. I already see you're a great person. I just wish you could see it too,"

I haven't realized it, but I'm crying. Lance looks unsure if he should hug me or not, given what I just told him about Shelby. He reaches out a hand, and I hesitantly place mine over it. We share a small smile with each other. Lance laces our fingers together, and we both look at them. I wonder if he can see my blushing. Probably not. I hope not.

I run my thumb across the top of his hand, feeling how soft it is. I notice scars on his knuckles, on his middle finger and his pointer finger. "What are these from?" I whisper, tracing the small marks with my fingers.

Lance looks down and sadly sighs. "They're from making myself puke. That's where my fingers would bump into my teeth," he whispers.

"Mmmm," is all I say. Not because it's good, but I feel like I need to have a reaction and I don't want to sound rude.

Lance looks up at the sky, which is slowly getting brighter. He looks at me. "Can we see if Marissa will give us a snack? I didn't eat any dinner and a just want something small and light,"

"Sure," I say. I keep our fingers intertwined as we walk towards the door. It flies open, revealing Diana.

"What are you doing? This is a no touching facility!" She shouts.

The loud noise makes me tense, I see Lance send me a concerned look. Diana grabs our hands and tries to pry them out of each other's. Now that sets me off.

All of a sudden, I'm back in Shelby's room, trying to keep my hand from being pulled off the bed post so I don't have to do what she wants. Fifteen years old, scared, crying. I scream.

I guess I'm screaming in the real world too. It's not very high pitched, but it's loud. "No! No, get away from me! Get off!" I shout, pushing myself back harshly onto the ground. Tears fly from my eyes.

"Go!" I scream again, wordlessly. I grip my hair tightly and curl into a ball.

Suddenly, there's a calming presence next to me.

"Keith?" It's Shiro, he's not touching me. "Can you get up? Do you think you can talk?"

I look up and shake my head. I can't do either of those. Lance kneels in front of me, coming to eye level with me, gazing at me with those beautiful blue eyes.

"Keith, I want you to imagine something with me. Can you try that?" I nod. "Okay. So...you're weightless, floating. But peacefully. Imagine the stars all around you, shining. Imagine that you're floating through a beautiful nebula. Now imagine that you hear someone below, calling for you. Reach for them. Do you feel their fingertips? That's me. I'm taking you down to Earth, but I'm gonna take you back later. I promise,"

I look up, meeting those beautiful blue orbs again. "Lance," I whisper. I reach my hand out, touching his face, feeling the soft skin. The bone behind it is prominent, but I don't care in this moment.

He nuzzles into my touch, not breaking eye contact. "Can you stand?" He asks gently. I nod, and he stands up.

He puts his hands out to help pick me up, and I take them gladly. He pulls me up, not letting go until I'm steady. Shiro and Marissa are my the door, as is Diana. She opens her mouth to say something.

"Shut the fuck up," Lance snarls from beside me, "you don't get to talk to him anymore,"

I'm shocked that anyone would ever care for me like that. Maybe Lance is right. Maybe I am worth caring for.

**Author's Note:**

> There will be Klance and Shadam/Adashi, but not while they are hospitalized. Each of them are not in a good enough place to care about themselves, never mind other people. I understand that in a lot of cases, people are discouraged to keep in contact with other patients they meet in the hospital. I also know that nobody listens.
> 
> HUGE TRIGGER WARNING (not gonna put these on each chapter) SELF HARM, DEPRESSION, SUICIDE ATTEMPTS, DRUGS
> 
> I will add more as I continue writing the story.
> 
> Enjoy!


End file.
